Xiyan's breath came in ragged gasps, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins as she moved deeper into the city's underbelly. The darkness wrapped around her like a cloak, but the flicker of neon lights and the faint hum of the city beyond kept her grounded. The figure, the one who had attacked her was gone now, disappearing into the night as if they'd never existed.
But their words, those cold, calculated words, still echoed in her mind.
"You've been a thorn in Hydra's side for too long."
"You'll lose everything."
Xiyan shook her head, trying to banish the doubt creeping into her thoughts. She couldn't afford distractions, not now. Not when the mission was so close. Her target was still out there, and Hydra's hidden hand was tightening its grip around everything she cared about.
The weight of her sniper rifle felt comforting in her hands, and the cold steel seemed to steady her mind, bringing her back to the present. She needed to focus.
Focus on the target.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the alley behind her. Xiyan's instincts flared, her body tensing. A figure appeared, silhouetted against the flickering streetlights. It was too quick for comfort, too deliberate. Her hand dropped to the knife at her belt.
She spun, prepared for a fight, but stopped short when she recognized the figure.
"Qiao…" She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
Qiao Zeyan stepped into the light, his eyes scanning her face with a mixture of concern and something else—something deeper that she couldn't quite place. He looked different tonight—darker, somehow. The usual teasing smile was gone, replaced by a cold seriousness that sent a shiver down her spine.
"You okay?" His voice was low, his eyes flicking to the rifle slung across her back.
Xiyan nodded, but the motion felt forced. "I'm fine. Just a little detour."
Qiao's gaze flicked to the alleyway behind her, narrowing. "You're lying. I can see it in your eyes. Something's off."
Xiyan hesitated. She wanted to brush it off, but the weight of his words held her still. The truth was, she had felt something shift in her since that encounter with the shadowy figure. It was more than just the fight—it was the feeling that the walls around her were closing in, that something much larger than herself was starting to take notice.
But she couldn't tell him that. Not yet.
"It's nothing," she said, her voice a little sharper than intended. "I'm just focused. The mission comes first."
Qiao's eyes softened, but only for a moment. "It always does with you, doesn't it? The mission, the next step… the next kill. When was the last time you let yourself breathe?"
The question hit harder than she expected. Her jaw clenched, but she refused to let the vulnerability show. "I'm doing what needs to be done. That's all that matters."
Qiao didn't answer immediately. He stepped closer, the weight of his presence almost overwhelming. His eyes softened again, but this time there was a hint of something else in them—a flicker of understanding, of connection.
"You don't have to do this alone, you know. You never did."
Xiyan opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. She was so used to carrying the burden alone, to being the one everyone relied on, but hearing him say that… it stirred something deep inside her.
Instead of answering, she turned away, unwilling to face the emotion clawing at her chest. "We need to move. The target is close."
She could feel his gaze on her, could feel the weight of his words lingering in the air. But he didn't argue.
"Lead the way," he said simply.
The mission took them deeper into the city, into the forgotten corners where shadows stretched long and time seemed to stop. The streets here were darker, the air thicker, the tension more palpable. Every corner held secrets. Every alley whispered lies.
Xiyan's instincts hummed with the familiar feeling of being watched. She wasn't alone.
And she wasn't the only one hunting.
They finally reached their destination: an old warehouse near the docks, abandoned but still brimming with secrets. The target was rumored to be here, hiding in plain sight, moving through the shadows like a ghost.
Xiyan and Qiao crouched behind a stack of crates, their eyes scanning the area. The tension between them was thick, but unspoken. They both knew the stakes. There was no room for hesitation now.
Qiao's voice was a mere whisper, cutting through the silence. "This doesn't feel right. There's something… off about this place."
Xiyan nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing. She didn't have to say it. She could feel it too—the subtle hum of danger in the air, the way the atmosphere seemed to thicken, pressing in on them.
"Keep your eyes open," Xiyan murmured, her hand tightening around the handle of her knife. "We're not the only ones here."
Before Qiao could respond, a movement caught Xiyan's eye. A shadow flitted across the window above, just out of reach. It was too quick, too fluid to be a person. But it was there, and it was close.
Her heart skipped a beat as she tensed, ready for whatever was coming.
"Move!" she hissed.
In one fluid motion, she and Qiao darted forward, slipping through the shadows with deadly precision. They knew the layout of the warehouse—this wasn't their first time in enemy territory. But tonight felt different. The air was thick with the promise of something they couldn't see, something far darker than just a simple mission.
The sound of footsteps echoed ahead, too many to be a single target. Xiyan's senses flared—this wasn't going to be a clean fight. This wasn't just about taking down a target.
This was a trap.